


Youth is the first victim of war; the first fruit of peace

by kaitlia777



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Steve is the baby on the team, Team, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: So depending on which of the various different combination of years you use to do the math, Steve is like 22-26 years old, yes?  I would like to see the rest of the Avengers suddenly realize just how freaking young Steve is. He's such a sound leader and amazing tactician and he's experience so much war and loss and he has is so mature/patient and has such a sense of responsibility and justice and honor...and he's the baby of the group.<br/>Maybe set after a battle where Steve nearly dies after doing something to save the team and is unconscious and severely injured and in critical condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Youth is the first victim of war; the first fruit of peace

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Okay, so I’m not sure if the movie verse goes by this, but according to the Captain America Wiki page “Steven Grant Rogers was born July 4, 1922, in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, New York City, to poor Irish immigrants, Sarah and Joseph Rogers” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_America). So, if he was frozen in 1944, he’d only be 22! Practically a baby!

In the current age of camera phones, it quickly became an accepted fact that, whenever the Avengers went out to do battle with the villain of the moment, someone with no survival instincts would stand around filming the fight and somehow survive to sell the video to a news outlet. Sometimes, the idiot with the camera would catch one of them doing something particularly awesome (which was great for PR), but they were really fond of shots of giant, aggressive bad guys _throwing_ Tony through buildings or The Hulk hitting a bad guy with an empty city bus.

What? They were working on getting the big guy to limit the property damage, but it was a process. 

Within a few months of officially coming together as a team, each of them had at least one iconic shot (Not counting the ones taken during the Chitauri invasion) that tended to be used whenever a talking head on TV discussed the team. 

The Hulk had been caught mid leap between buildings, a Doom-bot clutched in each hand. 

Thor’s was like something out of a summer blockbuster movie, emerging from a cloud of smoke, cape billowing and hammer in hand. 

Natasha was in the midst of a spinning, high kick, a beautiful, dangerous ballerina.

Literally falling off of a building (something that happened way too often), Clint was pictured still firing his bow with deadly precision.

Tony himself was shot standing by an AIM weapon, blasting a few enemy soldiers, seconds before he grabbed the weapon (a bomb) and dumped it safely in the ocean.

Shield in hand, Steve looked determined and strong, pointing and giving orders after taking out a random enemy.

Of course, after any particular battle, new images popped up, but these were what the media fell back on.

Frankly, Tony couldn’t wait until today’s fight faded from attention.

Everything had been going as these things usually did. Dr. Doom had decided to toss a small army of his ‘bots at the city and, as the Fantastic Four had fucked off to God only knew where, The Avengers had answered the call. Thor always seemed to enjoy these fights, as he got to practice his precision, calling down bolts of lightning to fry the Doombots where they stood.

The fight was actually winding down when Tony saw it happen.

Steve had flung his shield into the leg of a large ‘bot and it stuck as the machine fell, taking out part of a wall. Civilians spilled out of the collapsing building, right into the path of two smaller ‘bots. The only one close enough to react, Steve had thrown himself between a pair of kids and the barrel of a Doom-blaster.

The picture of Steve on the news tonight was one of a plasma blast hitting him in the chest as he shielded two girls in school uniforms. Later, Tony would look at the picture and decide this was when New Yorkers finally began to wise up to the fact that they lived in monster attack central, an epiphany prompted by the kids, clearly terrified, but one was clutching a rock and the other had a length of rebar.

For the moment though, all any of the Avengers cared about was Steve. Even as Steve crumpled to the ground, Thor landed on the ‘bots, crushing them and stepping to their colleague. When the demi-God bellowed for assistance, everyone had known it was bad.

Eight hours of surgery later, S.H.I.E.L.D. Medical places Steve in a private room, optimistic about his chances of survival due to the fact that he was a super soldier. According to Dr. Mata, the no nonsense CMO, anyone else would have been dead before they made it into surgery.

After many failed attempts, the medical staff allowed the Avengers to stand vigil in Steve’s room (though Mata had insisted they all shower, calling them filthy, contaminant ridden disease vectors) as he slept off…well, Tony wasn’t even sure if anesthetics worked on him or if he was out cold due to his injury. 

Bruce, closer to a medical doctor than the rest of them, had made a few noises over Steve’s chart, but had agreed with Mata. Basically, Steve’s recovery depended on Steve’s enhanced healing abilities.

Lying on one of the specially designed, extra-large hospital beds, Steve’s skin was nearly as white as the sheets. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, a necessity due to all the damage caused by the blast. His hand lay atop the blankets and, occasionally, Thor reached out and touched his arm, assuring himself that Steve remained warm, remained alive. Clint had somehow crammed himself onto the windowsill behind the small couch Natasha, Coulson and Bruce were perched on and Tony had wrangled an uncomfortable chair (seriously, S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t spring for more comfortable visitors chairs?).

Trying to seem like everything was normal, Tony tapped at his phone, trying actively not to stare at Steve’s sleeping face because that made something in Tony’s gut clench. Normally, the blond man looked young, but here, hurt and sleeping….

“Okay, so is anyone else here weirded out by the fact that Cap looks like he should be…I dunno, running around a quad somewhere chasing a Frisbee or whatever college kids are doing today?” Clint said, pretty much reading Tony’s mind.

Natasha gave a little shrug (cuz of course she would have an…odd view on how young people should get into their line of work) and said, “Not counting his years on ice, he’s 22.”

They all knew that, in an offhand way, but hearing it said aloud while Steve was hurt…ugh, Tony didn’t like to think about shit like that.

“Darcy is 22 as well,” Thor said and oh, that just made it a hundred times worse.

“Look, I think it’s fair to say, in certain cases, age is more or less irrelevant,” Coulson said quietly and Tony had to agree.

Steve was their captain, their leader…but, at the moment, he was a hurt kid and the respect they all had for him did nothing to diminish the urge to wrap him up in blankets, give him a teddy bear and keep him safe. 

Tony told himself that urge would disappear once Steve was back on his feet, all tall and muscly and heroic…or at least they’d be better able to ignore it.

Though a teddy bear in an old style Brooklyn Dodgers uniform did find its way onto Steve’s bed.

* * *

Comments, pretty please?


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